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A la fontana del vergier,
On l'erb' es vertz josta·l gravier,
A l'ombra d'un fust domesgier,
En aiziment de blancas flors
E de novelh chant costumier,
Trobey sola, ses companhier,
Selha que no vol mon solatz.

So fon donzelh'ab son cors belh
Filha d'un senhor de castelh!
E quant ieu cugey que l'auzelh
Li fesson joy e la verdors,
E pel dous termini novelh,
E quez entendes mon favelh,
Tost li fon sos afars camjatz.

Dels huelhs ploret josta la fon
E del cor sospiret preon.
Ihesus, dis elha, reys del mon,
Per vos mi creys ma grans dolors,
Quar vostra anta mi cofon,
Quar li mellor de tot est mon
Vos van servir, mas a vos platz.

Ab vos s'en vai lo meus amicx,
Lo belhs e·l gens e·l pros e·l ricx!
Sai m'en reman lo grans destricx,
Lo deziriers soven e·l plors.
Ay mala fos reys Lozoicx
Que fay los mans e los prezicx
Per que·l dols m'es en cor intratz

Quant ieu l'auzi desconortar,
Ves lieys vengui josta·l riu clar :
Belha, fi·m ieu, per trop plorar
Afolha cara e colors!
E no vos cal dezesperar,
Que selh qui fai lo bosc fulhar,
Vos pot donar de joy assatz.

Senher, dis elha, ben o crey
Que Deus aya de mi mercey
En l'autre segle per jassey,
Quon assatz d'autres peccadors!
Mas say mi tolh aquelha rey
Don joys mi crec! mas pauc mi tey
Que trop s'es de mi alonhatz.

By the fountain of the orchard,
where the grass is green, near the shore,
in the shade of a fruit tree,
with the charm of white flowers
and the usual song of the new season,
I found, alone, without companion,
she who doesn't want my happiness.

It was a lady of gracious body,
daughter of a castle lord.
And just when I thought the birds
made her rejoice, together with the greenery
and the sweetness of the new season,
and that she would hear my speech,
soon her attitude changed.

Tears flowed from her eyes near the fountain,
and,sighing from the heart,
"Jesus",she said, "king of the world,
for you increases my great sorrow,
because the outrage [you suffer] causes my loss,
since the best in the entire world
go serve you: but you like it so.

With you goes my friend,
the handsome, the kind, the valiant and the powerful!
Here, only great distress remains for me,
and the perpetual longing, and the tears.
A curse on King Louis,
who directs these calls and sermons
that have brought grief to my heart!"

When I heard her lament,
I came towards her near the clear stream:
"Beautiful," I said, "too much weeping
withers face and colours,
you don't' need to despair,
for he who makes the wood sprout leaves
can give you much joy."

"Sir", she said, "I think thus:
that God will have mercy on me
in the next life, forever,
as well as on other sinners.
But, here, he takes me the one thing
that increased my joy! Nothing matters to me
because he's gone so far away from me."